got him appointed to his present station; and though Lord Davenant was theostensible person, I considered her as the prime mover behind the curtain.Accordingly, I sat me down, and wrote as pretty a note as I could pen, andSir Ben approved of the whole thing; but I don't say that I'm positive hewas as oft-handed and clean-hearted in the matter as I was, for between youand I his gratitude, as they say of some people's, is apt to squint withone eye to the future as well as one to the past--you comprehend?"

Helen was not clear that she comprehended all that had been said; stillless had she any idea what she could have to do in this matter; she waitedfor further explanation.

"Now all I want from you then, Miss Hanley--Stanley I would say, I begpardon, I'm the worst at proper names that lives--but all I want ofyou, Miss Hanley, is--first, your opinion as to the validity of thehandwriting,--well, you are positive, then, that this _mis-sent_ is herhand. Now then, I want to know, do you think Lady Davenant knew what shewas about when she wrote it?"

Helen's eyes opened to their utmost power of distension, at the idea ofanybody's questioning that Lady Davenant knew what she was about.

"La! my dear," said Lady Bearcroft; "spare the whites of your eyes,I didn't mean she didn't know what she was about in _that_ sense."

"What sense?" said Helen.

"Not in any particular sense," replied Lady Bearcroft. "But let me go on,or we shall never come to an understanding; I only meant that her ladyshipmight have just sat down to answer my note, as I often do myself, withouthaving read the whole through, or before I have taken it in quite." Helenthought this very unlikely to have happened with Lady Davenant.

"But still it might have happened," continued Lady Bearcroft, "that herladyship did not notice the delicacy of the way in which the thing was_put_--for it really was put so that nobody could take hold of it againstany of us--you understand; and after all, such a curiosity of a Sevigne asthis, and such fine 'di'monds,' was too pretty, and too good a thing to berefused hand-over-head, in that way. Besides, my note was so respectable,and respectful, it surely required and demanded something more of ananswer, methinks, from a person of birth or education, than the single baldword 'mis-sent,' like the postman! Surely, Miss Hanley, now, putting yourfriendship apart, candidly you must think as I do? And, whether or no, atleast you will be so obliging to do me the favour to find out from LadyDavenant if she really made the reply with her eyes open or not, and reallymeant what she said."

Helen being quite clear that Lady Davenant always meant what she said, andhad written with her eyes open, declined, as perfectly useless, making theproposed inquiry. It was plain that Lady Davenant had not thought properto accept of this present, and to avoid any unpleasant explanations, hadpresumed it was not intended for her, but had been sent by mistake. Helenadvised her to let the matter rest.

"Well, well!" said Lady Bearcroft, "thank you, Miss Hanley, at all eventsfor your good advice. But, neck or nothing, I am apt to go through withwhatever I once take into my head, and, since you cannot aid and abet,I will trouble you no further, only not to say a word of what I havementioned. But all the time I thank you, my dear young lady, as much asif I took your dictum. So, my dear Miss Hanley--Stanley--do not let meinterrupt you longer in your book-hunt. Take care of that step-ladder,though; it is _coggledy_, as I observed when you came down--Good night,good night."

CHAPTER X

"My dear Helen, there is an end of every thing!" cried Lady Cecilia, thenext day, bursting into Helen's room, and standing before her with an airof consternation. "What has brought things to this sad pass, I know not,"continued she, "for, but an hour before, I left every body in good-humourwith themselves--all in good train. But now----"

"What?" said Helen, "for you have not given me the least idea of what hashappened."

"Because I have not the least idea myself, my dear. All I know is, thatsomething has gone wrong, dreadfully! between my mother and Lady Bearcroft.Mamma would not tell me what it is; but her indignation is at such a heightshe declares she will not see that _woman,_ again:--positively will notcome forth from her chamber as long as Lady Bearcroft remains in the house.So there is a total break up--and I wish I had never meddled with anything. O that I had never brought together these unsuitabilities, theseincompatibilities! Oh, Helen! what shall I do?"

Quite pale, Lady Cecilia stood, really in despair; and Helen did not knowwhat to advise.

"Do you know any thing about it, Helen, for you look as if you did?"

An abrupt knock at the door interrupted them, and, without waiting forpermission, in came Lady Bearcroft, as if blown by a high wind, lookingvery red: half angry, half frightened, and then laughing, she exclaimed--"A fine _boggle-de-botch,_ I have made of it!" But seeing Lady Cecilia, shestopped short--"Beg pardon--thought you were by yourself, Miss Hanley."

Lady Cecilia instantly offered to retire, yet intimated, as she movedtowards the door, a wish to stay, and, if it were not too much, to ask whatwas meant by----

"By _boggle-de-botch_, do you mean?" said Lady Bearcroft. "I am aware it isnot a canonical word--classical, I mean; nor in nor out of any dictionary,perhaps--but when people are warm, they cannot stand picking terms.""Certainly not," said Lady Cecilia; "but what is the matter? I am sorryany thing unpleasant has occurred."

"Unpleasant indeed!" cried Lady Bearcroft; "I have been treated actuallylike a dog, while paying a compliment too, and a very handsome compliment,beyond contradiction. Judge for yourself, Lady Cecilia, if this Sevigne isto be _sneezed at_?"

She opened the case; Lady Cecilia said the diamonds were certainly veryhandsome, but----

"But!" repeated Lady Bearcroft, "I grant you there may be a but toeverything in life; still it might be said civilly, as you say it, LadyCecilia, or looked civilly, as you look it, Miss Hanley: and if that hadbeen done, instead of being affronted, I might after all have been wellenough pleased to pocket my diamonds; but nobody can without compunctionpocket an affront."

Lady Cecilia was sure her mother could not mean any affront.

"Oh, I do not know what she could or could not mean; but I will tell youwhat she did--all but threw the diamonds in my face."

"Impossible!" cried Helen.

"Possible--and I will show you how, Miss Hanley. This way: just shut downthe case--snap!--and across the table she threw it, just as you would deala card in a passion, only with a Mrs. Siddons' air to boot. I beg yourpardons, both ladies, for mimicking your friend and your parent, but fleshand blood could not stand that sort of style, you know, and a littlewholesome mimicry breaks no bones, and is not very offensive, I hope?"The mimicry could not indeed be very offensive, for the imitation was soutterly unlike the reality, that Lady Cecilia and Helen with difficultyrepressed their smiles. "Ladies may smile, but they would smile on thewrong sides of their pretty little mouths if they had been treated as Ihave been--so ignominiously. I am sure I wish I had taken your advice, MissHanley; but the fact was, last night I did not quite believe you: I thoughtyou were only saying the best you could to set off a friend; for, since Ihave been among the great, and indeed even when I lived with the little, Ihave met with so many fair copies of false countenances, that I couldnot help suspecting there might he something of that sort with your LadyDavenant, but I am entirely convinced all you told me is true, for I peepedquite close at her, lifted up the hood, and found there were not two facesunder it--only one very angry one for my pains. But I declare I wouldrather see that than a double one, like my Lady Masham's, with herspermaceti smile. And after all, do you know," continued Lady Bearcroft ina right vulgarly-cordial tone--"Do you know now, really, the first angerover, I like Lady Davenant--I protest and vow, even her pride I like--itwell became her--birth and all, for I hear she is straight fromCharlemagne! But I was going to mention, now my recollection is coming tome, that when I began talking to her ladyship of Sir Ben's gratitude aboutthat place she got for him, she cut me short with her queer look, and saidshe was sure that Lord Davenant (and if he had been the king himself,instead of only her husband, and your father, Lady Cecilia, she could nothave pronounced his name with more distinction)--she was sure, she said,that Lord Davenant would not have been instrumental in obtaining that placefor Sir Benjamin Bearcroft if he had known any man more worthy of it, whichindeed I did not think at the time over and above civil--for where, then,was the particular compliment to Sir Ben?"

But when Lady Bearcroft saw Lady Cecilia's anxiety and real distress at hermother's indignant resolution, she, with surprising good-humour said,--"Iwish I could settle it for you, my dear. I cannot go away directly, whichwould be the best move, because Sir Benjamin has business here to-day withLord Davenant--some job of his own, which must take place of any movementsof mine, he being the more worthy gender.. But I will tell you what I cando, and will, and welcome. I will keep my room instead of your motherkeeping hers; so you may run and tell Lady Davenant that she is a prisonerat large, with the range of the whole house, without any danger of meetingme, for I shall not stir till the carriage is at the door to-morrowmorning, when she will not be up, for we will have it at six. I will tellSir Benjamin, he is in a hurry back to town, and he always is. So all isright on my part. And go you to your mother, my dear Lady Cecilia, andsettle her. I am glad to see you smile again; it is a pity you should everdo any thing else." It was not long before Cecilia returned, proclaiming,"Peace, peace!" She had made such an amusing report to her mother of allthat Lady Bearcroft had said and done, and purposed to do, that LadyDavenant could not help seeing the whole in a ludicrous light, felt at oncethat it was beneath her serious notice, and that it would be unbecoming towaste indignation upon such a person. The result was, that she commissionedHelen to release Lady Bearcroft as soon as convenient, and to inform herthat an act of oblivion was passed over the whole transaction.

There had been a shower, and it had cleared up. Lady Cecilia thought thesky looked bluer, and birds sang sweeter, and the air felt pleasanter thanbefore the storm. "Nothing like a storm," said she, "for clearing the air;nothing like a little honest hurricane. But with Lady Masham there never isanything like a little honest hurricane. It is all still and close with anindescribable volcano-like feeling; one is not sure of what one is standingupon. Do you know, Helen," continued she, "I am quite afraid of someexplosion between mamma and Lady Masham. If we came to any difficulty withher, we could not get out of it quite so well as with Lady Bearcroft, forthere is no resource of heart or frankness of feeling with her. Before weall meet at dinner, I must sound mamma, and see if all is tolerably safe."And when she went this day at dressing-time with a bouquet, as was hercustom, for her mother, she took Helen with her.

At the first hint of Lady Cecilia's fears, that Lady Masham could do herany mischief, Lady Davenant smiled in scorn. "The will she may have, mydear, but she has not the power."

"She is very foolish, to be sure," said Lady Cecilia; "still she might domischief, and there is something monstrously treacherous in that smile ofhers."

"Monstrously!" repeated Lady Davenant. "No, no, my dear Cecilia; nothingmonstrous. Leave to Lady Bearcroft the vulgar belief in court-bredmonsters; we know there are no such things. Men and women there, aseverywhere else, are what nature, education, and circumstances havemade them. Once an age, once in half-a-dozen ages, nature may make aBrinvilliers, or art allow of a Zeluco; but, in general, monsters are merefabulous creatures--mistakes often, from bad drawings, like the unicorn.""Yes, mamma, yes; now I feel much more comfortable. The unicorn hasconvinced me," said Lady Cecilia, laughing and singing

''Tis all a mere fable; there's nothing to fear.'

"And I shall think of her henceforth as nothing but what she appears to be,a well-dressed, well-bred, fine lady. Ay--every inch a fine lady; everyword, look, motion, thought, suited to that _metier_."

"That vocation," said Lady Davenant; it is above a trade; with her itreally is a sacred duty, not merely a pleasure, to be fine. She is a finelady of the first order; nothing too professional in her manner--no obviousaffectation, for affectation in her was so early wrought into habit as tohave become second nature, scarcely distinguishable from real--all easy."

"Just so, mamma; one gets on so easy with her."

"A curious illusion," continued Lady Davenant, "occurs with every onemaking acquaintance with such persons as Lady Masham, I have observed;perhaps it is that some sensation of the tread-mill life she leads,communicates itself to those she is talking to; which makes you fancy youare always getting on, but you never do get beyond a certain point."

"That is exactly what I feel," said Helen, "while Lady Masham speaks, orwhile she listens, I almost wonder how she ever existed without me."

"Yes, and though one knows it is all an illusion," said Lady Cecilia,"still one is pleased, knowing all the time that she cannot possibly carefor one in the least; but then one does not expect every body to care forone really; at least I know I cannot like all my acquaintance as much as myfriends, much less can I love all my neighbours as myself--"

"Come, come! Cecilia!" said her mother.

"By 'come, come!' mamma means, don't go any further, Cecilia," said she,turning to Helen. "But now, mamma, I am not clear whether you really thinkher your friend or your enemy, inclined to do you mischief or not. Just asit may be for her interest or not, I suppose."

"And just as it may be the fashion or not," said Lady Davenant. "I rememberhearing old Lady -----, one of the cleverest women of the last century, andone who had seen much of the world, say, 'If it was the fashion to burn me,and I at the stake, I hardly know ten persons of my acquaintance who wouldrefuse to throw on a faggot.'"

"Oh mamma!--Oh Lady Davenant!" exclaimed Helen and Cecilia.

"It was a strong way of putting the matter," said Lady Davenant,laughing:--"but fashion has, I assure you, more influence over weak minds,such as Lady Masham's, than either party or interest. And since you do notlike my illustration by fire, take one by water--She is just a person to goout with, on a party of pleasure, on the smooth surface of a summer sea,and if a slight shower comes on would pity your bonnet sincerely, but if aserious squall arose and all should be in danger----"

"Then, of course, every body would take care of themselves," interruptedLady Cecilia, "excepting such a simpleton as Helen, who would take care ofyou first, mamma, of me next and of herself last."

"I believe it--I do believe it," cried Lady Davenant, and, her eyes andthoughts fixing upon Helen, she quite forgot what further she was going tosay of Lady Masham.

The perfectly unimpassioned tone, in which her mother had discussed thislady's character, even the candour, convinced Lady Cecilia as well asHelen, that nothing further could be done as to drawing them together.No condescension of manner, no conciliation, could be expected from LadyDavenant towards Lady Masham, but at the same time there was no fear of anyrupture. And to this humble consolation was Lady Cecilia brought. She toldHelen that she gave up all hope of doing any good, she would now be quitecontent if she avoided doing harm, and if this visit ended without comingto any further outrage on the part of Lady Bearcroft, and without hermother's being _guilty of contempt_ to Lady Masham. She had done somelittle service, however, with respect to the ambassadress, and her motherknew it. It was well known that the ambassadress governed the ambassador,and Lady Cecilia had quite won her heart, "so that he will be assuredlya friend to papa. Indeed, this has been almost promised. Madamel'Ambassadrice assured me that her husband looks upon Lord Davenant as oneof the first sages of England, that is to say, of Europe; and she says heis well acquainted with all Lord Davenant's works--and it is my belief,"concluded Lady Cecilia, "that all Sir William Davenant's works go with herto papa's credit, for as she spoke she gave a polite glance towards thebookcase where she saw their gilded backs, and I found the ambassadorhimself, afterwards, with 'Davenant on Trade' in his hand! Be it so: it isnot, after all, you know, robbing the dead, only inheriting by mistakefrom a namesake, which with foreigners is allowable, because impossible toavoid, from the time of _'Monsieur Robinson parent apparemment de MonsieurCrusoe?'_ to the present day."

By dint of keeping well asunder those who would not draw well together,Lady Cecilia did contrive to get through the remaining morning of thisoperose visit; some she sent out to drive with gallant military outridersto see places in the neighbourhood famed for this or that; others walked orboated, or went through the customary course of conservatories, pheasantry,flower-garden, pleasure-grounds, and best views of Clarendon Park--andbilliards always. The political conferences were held in Lord Davenant'sapartment: to what these conferences tended we never knew and never shall;we consider them as matters of history, and leave them with due deferenceto the historian; we have to do only with biography. Far be it from us tomeddle with politics--we have quite enough to do with manners and morality.

CHAPTER XI.

The next day, as Helen was going across the hall, she saw the membersof the last political conclave coming out of Lord Davenant's room, eachlooking as if the pope had not been chosen according to his wish--dark anddisappointed; even Mr. Harley's radiant countenance was dimmed, and thedry symptomatic cough which he gave after taking leave of Lady Davenant,convinced Helen that all was not well within. He departed, and there seemedto be among those who remained a greater constraint than ever. Thereappeared to be in each an awakened sense that there were points on whichthey could never agree; all seemed to feel how different it would have beenif Mr. Harley had remained. True, the absence or presence of a person ofgenius makes as much difference in the whole appearance of things, assunshine or no sunshine on the landscape.

Dinner, however, was got through, for time and the hour, two hours, orthree, will get through the roughest dinner or the smoothest. "Never saw adifficult dinner-party better, bothered!" was Lady Bearcroft's compliment,whispered to Cecilia as they went into the drawing-room; and Helen,notwithstanding Lady Bearcroft's vulgarity, could not help beginningabsolutely to like her for her good nature and amazingly prompt sympathy;but, after all, good nature without good manners is but a blundering ally,dangerous to its best friend.

This evening, Lady Cecilia felt that every one was uncomfortable, and,flitting about the room, she touched here and there to see how things weregoing on. They were not going on well, and she could not make them better;even her efforts at conciliation were ineffectual; she had stepped inbetween her mother, some of the gentlemen, and the general, in an argumentin which she heard indications of strife, and she set about to explain awaycontradictions, and to convince every body that they were really all of thesame opinion. With her sweet voice and pretty persuasive look, this mighthave done for the general, as a relaxing smile seemed to promise; but itwould not do at all with Lady Davenant, who, from feelings foreign tothe present matter, was irritated, and spoke, as Helen thought, tooharshly:--"Cecilia, you would act Harmony in the comedy to perfection; but,unfortunately, I am not one of those persons who can be persuaded thatwhen I say one thing I mean quite another--probably because it is notmy practice so to do. That old epigram, Sir Benjamin, do you know it,"continued she, "which begins with a bankrupt's roguish 'Whereas?'

"Whereas the religion and fate of three nations Depend on th' importance of our conversations: Whereas some objections are thrown in our way, And words have been construed to mean what they say,-- Be it known from henceforth to each friend and each brother, When'er we say one thing we mean quite another."

Sir Benjamin gravely remarked that it was good law practice. The courtsthemselves would be shut up if some such doctrine were not understoodin the practice there, _subaudito,_ if not publicly proclaimed with anabsolute "Whereas be it known from henceforth." Whether this was dry humourof Sir Benjamin's, or plain matter of fact and serious opinion, the gravitywith which it was delivered indicated not; but it produced the good effectof a smile, a laugh, at him or with him. Lady Cecilia did not care which,the laugh was good at all events; her invincible goodnature and sweetnessof temper had not been soured or conquered even by her mother's severity;and Lady Davenant, observing this, forgave and wished to be forgiven.

"My dearest Cecilia," said she, "clasp this bracelet for me, will you? Itwould really be a national blessing, if, in the present times, all women were as amiable as you,'Fond to spread friendships, but to cover heat Then, turning to a French gentleman, she spoke of the change she hadobserved when she was last at Paris, from the overwhelming violence ofparty spirit on all sides.

"Dreadfully true," the French gentleman replied--"party spirit, takingevery Proteus form, calling itself by a hundred names and with a thousanddevices and watchwords, which would be too ridiculous, if they were nottoo terrible--domestic happiness destroyed, all society disordered,disorganised--literature not able to support herself, scarcely appearing incompany--all precluded, superseded by the politics of the day."

Lady Davenant joined with him in his regrets, and added, that she fearedsociety in England would soon be brought to the same condition.

"No," said the French gentleman, "English ladies will never be so vehementas my countrywomen; they will never become, I hope, like some of our ladypoliticians, '_qui heurlent comme des demons_.'"

Lady Cecilia said that, from what she had seen at Paris, she was persuadedthat if the ladies did bawl too loud it was because the gentlemen didnot listen to them; that above half the party-violence which appeared inParisian belles was merely dramatic, to produce a sensation, and draw thegentlemen, from the black _pelotons_ in which they gathered, back to theirproper positions round the _fauteuils_ of the fair ladies.

The foreigner, speaking to what he saw passing in Lady Davenant's mind,went on;--"Ladies can do much, however, in this as in all other dilemmaswhere their power is, and ought to be, omnipotent."

"Female _influence_ is and ought to be _potent,_" said the general, with anemphasis on influence, contradistinguishing it from power, and reducingthe exaggeration of omnipotent by the short process of lopping off twosyllables.

"So long as ladies keep in their own proper character," said Lady Davenant,"all is well; but, if once they cease to act as women, that instant theylose their privilege--their charm: they forfeit their exorcising power;they can no longer command the demon of party nor themselves, and hetransforms them directly, as you say," said she to the French gentleman,"into actual furies."

"And, when so transformed, sometimes unconscious of their state," said thegeneral, drily, his eye glancing towards the other end of the room, andlighting upon Lady Bearcroft, who was at the instant very red and veryloud; and Lady Cecilia was standing, as if watchful for a moment's pause,in which to interpose her word of peace. She waited for some time in vain,for when she hastened from the other end of the room to this--the sceneof action, things had come to such a pass between the ladies Masham andBearcroft, that mischief, serious mischief, must have ensued, had notLady Cecilia, at utmost need, summoned to her aid the happy genius ofNonsense--the genius of Nonsense, in whose elfin power even Love delights;on whom Reason herself condescends often to smile, even when Logic frowns,and chops him on his block: but cut in twain, the ethereal spirit soonunites again, and lives, and laughs. But mark him well--this little happygenius of Nonsense; see that he be the true thing--the genuine spirit. Youwill know him by his well-bred air and tone, which none can counterfeit;and by his smile; for while most he makes others laugh, the arch littlerogue seldom goes beyond a smile himself! Graceful in the midst of allhis pranks, he never goes too far--though far enough he has been known togo--he has crept into the armour of the great hero, convulsed the senate inthe wig of a chancellor, and becomingly, decorously, put on now and thenthe mitre of an archbishop. "If good people," said Archbishop Usher, "wouldbut make goodness agreeable, and smile, instead of frowning in theirvirtue, how many they would win to the good cause!" Lady Cecilia in thiswas good at need, and at her utmost need, obedient to her call, came thishappy little genius, and brought with him song and dance, riddle andcharade, and comic prints; and on a half-opened parcel of books Ceciliadarted, and produced a Comic Annual, illustrated by him whom no risiblemuscles can resist. All smiled who understood, and mirth admitted of hercrew all who smiled, and party-spirit fled. But there were foreignerspresent. Foreigners cannot well understand our local allusions; ourCruikshank is to them unintelligible, and Hood's "Sorrows of Number One"quite lost upon them. Then Lady Bearcroft thought she would do as much asLady Cecilia, and more--that she would produce what these poor foreignerscould comprehend. But not at her call came the genius of lively nonsense,he heard her not. In his stead came that counterfeit, who thinks it wittyto be rude:

that vulgar imp yclept Fun--known by his broad grin, by his loud tone, andby his rude banter. Head foremost forcing himself in, came he, and broughtwith him a heap of coarse caricatures, and they were party caricatures.

"Capital!" Lady Bearcroft, however, pronounced them, as she spread all uponthe table for applause--but no applause ensued.

Not such, these, as real good English humour produces and enjoys,independently of party--these were all too broad, too coarse. Lady Davenantdespised, the general detested. Helen turned away, and Lady Cecilia threwthem under the table, that they might not be seen by the foreigners."For the honour of England, do not let them be spread abroad, pray, LadyBearcroft."

"The world is grown mighty nice!" said Lady Bearcroft; "for my part, giveme a good laugh when it is to be had."

"Perhaps we shall find one here," said Lady Cecilia, opening a portfolioof caricatures in a different style, but they were old, and Lady Bearcroftwould have thrown them aside; but Lord Davenant observed that, if they havelasted so long,--they must be good, because their humour only can ensuretheir permanence; the personality dies with the person: for instance,in the famous old print of the minister rat-catcher, in the Westminsterelection, the likeness to each rat of the day is lost to us, but theridicule on placemen ratters remains. The whole, however, is perfectlyincomprehensible to foreigners. "Rats! rat!" repeated one of theforeigners, as he looked at and studied the print. It was amusing to seethe gravity with which this foreign diplomatist, quite new to England,listened to Lady Bearcroft's explanation of what is meant in English by a_rat political_. She was at first rather good on this topic, professinga supernatural acuteness of the senses, arising from an unconquerableantipathy, born with her, to the whole race of _rats_. She declared thatshe could see a rat a mile off in any man--could, from the moment a manopened his mouth in parliament, or on the hustings, prophesy whether hewould turn into a rat at last, or not. She, moreover, understood thelanguage of rats of every degree, and knew even when they said "No," thatthey meant "Yes,"--two monosyllables, the test of rats, which betray themall sooner or later, and transform the biped into the quadruped, who thenturns tail, and runs always to the other side, from whatever side he may beof.

The _charge-d'affaires_ stood in half bow, lending deferential ear andserious attention the whole time of this lecture upon rats, without beingable from beginning to end to compass its meaning, and at the close, with adisconsolate shrug, he exclaimed, "_Ah! Je renonce a ca_--"

Lady Bearcroft went on--"Since I cannot make your excellency understandby description what I mean by an English rat-political, I must give youan example or two, dead and living--living best, and I have more than onenoted and branded rat in my eye."

But Lady Cecilia, anxious to interrupt this perilous business, hastily rangfor wine and water; and as the gentlemen went to help themselves she gavethem a general toast, as sitting down to the piano-forte, to the tune of--"Here's to the maiden of blushing fifteen"--

She sang--

"Here's to rats and ratcatchers of every degree, The rat that is trapped, and the rat that is free, The rat that is shy, sir, the rat that is bold, sir, The rat upon sale, sir, the rat that is sold, sir. Let the rats rat! Success to them all, And well off to the old ones before the house fall!"

CHAPTER XII.

Sir Benjamin and Lady Bearcroft departed at six o'clock the next morning,and all the rest of the political and diplomatic corps _left_ immediatelyafter breakfast.

Lady Davenant looked relieved, the general satisfied, and Lady Ceciliaconsoled herself with the hope that, if she had done no good, she had notdone any harm. This was a bad slide, perhaps, in the magic lantern, butwould leave no trace behind. She began now to be very impatient forBeauclerc's appearance; always sanguine, and as rapid in her conclusions asshe was precipitate in her actions, she felt no doubt, no anxiety, as tothe future; for, though she refrained from questioning Helen as to hersentiments for Beauclerc, she was pretty well satisfied on that subject.Helen was particularly grateful to Lady Cecilia for this forbearance, beingalmost ashamed to own, even to herself, how exceedingly happy she felt; andnow that it was no longer wrong in her to love, or dishonourable in himto wish to be loved, she was surprised to find how completely the ideaof Beauclerc was connected with and interwoven through all her thoughts,pursuits, and sentiments. He had certainly been constantly in her companyfor several months, a whole summer, but she could scarcely believe thatduring this time he could have become so necessary to her happiness. While,with still increasing agitation, she looked forward to his arrival, shefelt as if Lady Davenant's presence was a sort of protection, a somethingto rely on, in the new circumstances in which she was to be placed. LordDavenant had returned to town, but Lady Davenant remained. The Russianembassy seemed still in abeyance.

One morning as Helen was sitting in Lady Davenant's room alone with her,she said suddenly: "At your age, Helen, I had as little taste for what arecalled politics as you have, yet you see what I am come to, and by the sameroad you may, you will, arrive at the same point."

"I! oh, I hope not!" cried Helen, almost before she felt the wholeinference that might he drawn from this exclamation.

"You hope not?" repeated her ladyship calmly. "Let us consider this matterrationally, and put our hopes, and our fears, and our prejudices out of thequestion, if possible. Let me observe to you, that the position of women insociety is somewhat different from what it was a hundred years ago, or asit was sixty, or I will say thirty years since. Women are now so highlycultivated, and political subjects are at present of so much importance, ofsuch high interest, to all human creatures who live together in society,you can hardly expect, Helen, that you, as a rational being, can go throughthe world as it now is, without forming any opinion on points of publicimportance. You cannot, I conceive, satisfy yourself with the commonnamby-pamby little missy phrase, 'ladies have nothing to do withpolitics.'"

Helen blushed, for she was conscious that, wrong or right, namby-pamby,little missy, or not, she had hitherto satisfied herself very comfortablywith some such thought.

"Depend upon it, Helen," resumed Lady Davenant, "that when you are married,your love for a man of superior abilities, and of superior character, mustelevate your mind to sympathy with all his pursuits, with all the subjectswhich claim his attention."

Helen felt that she must become strongly interested in every subject inwhich the man she loved was interested; but still she observed that she hadnot abilities or information, like Lady Davenant's, that could justify herin attempting to follow her example. Besides, Helen was sure that, even ifshe had, it would not suit her taste; and besides, in truth, she did notthink it well suited to a woman--she stopped when she came to that lastthought. But what kindness and respect suppressed was clearly understood byher penetrating friend. Fixing her eyes upon Helen, she said with asmile, the candour and nobleness of her character rising above all littleirritation of temper.

"I agree with you, my dear Helen, in all you do _not_ say, and were I tobegin life over again, my conduct should in some respects be different. Ofthe public dangers and private personal inconveniences that may resultfrom women becoming politicians, or, as you better express our meaninginterfering, with public affairs, no one can be more aware than I am._Interfering_, observe I say, for I would mark and keep the line betweeninfluence and interference. Female influence must, will, and ought to existon political subjects as on all others; but this influence should alwaysbe domestic, not public--the customs of society have so ruled it. Of thethorns in the path of ambitious men all moralists talk, but there arelittle, scarcely visible, thorns of a peculiar sort that beset the pathof an ambitious woman, the venomous prickles of the _domestic bramble_, aplant not perhaps mentioned in Withering's Botany, or the Hortus Kewensis,but it is too well known to many, and to me it has been sorely known."

At this instant General Clarendon came in with some letters, which had beenforwarded to him express. One, for Lady Davenant, he had been desiredto put into her hands himself: he retired, and Lady Davenant opened theletter. By the first glance at her countenance, Helen saw that there wassomething in it which had surprised and given her great concern. Helenwithdrew her eyes, and waited till she should speak. But Lady Davenant wasquite silent, and Helen, looking at her again, saw her put her hand to herheart, as if from some sudden sense of violent bodily pain, and she sankon the sofa, fell back, and became as pale as death and motionless.Excessively frightened, Helen threw open the window, rang the bell for LadyDavenant's own woman, and sent the page for Lady Cecilia. In a few momentsLady Cecilia and Elliott came. Neither was as much alarmed as Helenhad expected they would be. They had seen Lady Davenant, under similarattacks--they knew what remedies to apply. Elliott was a remarkablycomposed, steady person. She now went on doing all that was necessarywithout speaking a word. The paroxysm lasted longer than usual, as LadyCecilia observed; and, though she continued her assurances to Helen that"It was all nervous--only nerves," she began evidently to be herselfalarmed. At length symptoms of returning animation appeared, and thenCecilia retired, beckoning to Helen to follow her into the next room. "Wehad better leave mamma to Elliott, she will be happier if she thinks weknow nothing of the matter." Then, recollecting that Helen had been in theroom when this attack came on, she added--"But no, you must go back, formamma will remember that you were present--take as little notice, however,as possible of what has happened."

Cecilia said that her mother, when they were abroad, had been subject tosuch seizures at intervals, "and in former times, before I was born, Ibelieve," said Lady Cecilia, "she had some kind of extraordinary diseasein the heart; but she has a particular aversion to being thought nervous.Every physician who has ever pronounced her nervous has always displeasedher, and has been dismissed. She was once quite vexed with me for barelysuggesting the idea. There," cried Cecilia, "I hear her voice, go to her."

Helen followed Lady Cecilia's suggestion, and took as little notice aspossible of what had happened. Elliott disappeared as she entered--the pagewas waiting at the door, but to Helen's satisfaction Lady Davenant did notadmit him. "Not yet; tell him I will ring when I want him," said she. Thedoor closed: and Lady Davenant, turning to Helen, said, "Whether I live ordie is a point of some consequence to the friends who love me; but thereis another question, Helen, of far more importance to me, and, I trust,to them. That question is, whether I continue to live as I have lived,honoured and respected, or live and die dishonoured and despised,"--her eyeglanced towards the letter she had been reading. "My poor child," continuedLady Davenant, looking at Helen's agitated countenance,--"My poor child, Iwill not keep you in suspense." She then told Helen that she was suspectedof having revealed a secret of state that had been confided to her husband,and which it was supposed, and truly supposed, that Lord Davenant had toldto her. Beyond its political importance, the disclosure involved a chargeof baseness, in her having betrayed confidence, having suffered a copy of aletter from an illustrious personage to be handed about and read by severalpeople. "Lord Davenant as yet knows nothing of this, the effect upon him iswhat I most dread. I cannot show you this," continued she, opening againthe letter she had just received, "because it concerns others as well asmyself. I am, at all events, under obligations that can never be forgottento the person who gave me this timely notice, which could no otherwise havereached me, and the person to whom I am thus obliged is one, Helen, whomneither you nor I like, and whom Cecilia particularly dislikes--MissClarendon! Her manner of doing me this service is characteristic: shebegins,

"'Miss Clarendon is aware that Lady Davenant has no liking for her, butthat shall not prevent Miss Clarendon from doing what she thinks an act ofjustice towards a noble character falsely attacked.'"--Lady Davenant readno more.

"Had not you better wait till you are stronger, my dear Lady Davenant!"said Helen, seeing her prepare to write.

"It was once said, gloriously well," replied Lady Davenant, "that theduties of life are more than life itself--so I think."

While she wrote, Helen thought of what she had just heard, and she venturedto interrupt Lady Davenant to ask if she had formed any idea of the meansby which the secret could have been betrayed--or the copy of the letterobtained.

Yes, she had a suspicion of one person, the diplomatist to whom Mr. Harleyhad shown such a mortal antipathy. She recollected that the last morningthe _Congress_ had sat in Lord Davenant's cabinet, she had left herwriting-desk there, and this letter was in it; she thought that she hadlocked the desk when she had left the room, it certainly was fast when shereturned, but it had a spring Bramah lock, and its being shut down wouldhave fastened it. She had no proof one way or other, her suspicion restedwhere was her instinctive dislike. It was remarkable, however, that she atonce did justice to another person whom she did not like, Mr. Mapletofft,Lord Davenant's secretary. "His manners do not please me," she said, "but Ihave perfect confidence in his integrity."

Helen felt and admired this generous candour, but her suspicions were notof the diplomatist alone: she thought of one who might perhaps have beenemployed by him--Carlos the page. And many circumstances, which sherecollected and put together, now strengthened this suspicion. She wonderedit had not occurred to Lady Davenant; she thought it must, but that she didnot choose to mention it. Helen had often heard Lady Davenant's particularfriends complain that it was extremely disagreeable to them to have thisboy constantly in the room, whatever might be the conversation. There wasthe page, either before or behind a screen, always within hearing.

Lady Davenant said that, as Carlos was a Portuguese, and had never been inEngland till she had brought him over, a few months before, he could notunderstand English well enough to comprehend what was going on. This wasdoubted, especially by Helen, who had watched his countenance, and hadrepresented her doubts and her reasons for them to Lady Davenant, but shewas not convinced. It was one of the few points on which she could justlybe reproached with adhering to her fancy instead of listening to reason.The more Carlos was attacked, the more she adhered to him. In fact, it wasnot so much because he was a favourite, as because he was a _protege_;he was completely dependent upon her protection: she had brought him toEngland, had saved him from his mother, a profligate camp-follower, hadfreed him from the most miserable condition possible, and had raised himto easy, happy, confidential life. To the generous the having conferredan obligation is in itself a tie hard to sever. All noble-minded peoplebelieve in fidelity, and never doubt of gratitude; they throw their ownsouls into those they oblige, and think and feel for them, as they, intheir situation, would think and feel. Lady Davenant considered it aninjustice to doubt the attachment of this boy, and a cruelty she deemed itto suspect him causelessly of being the most base of human creatures--he, ayoung defenceless orphan. Helen had more than once offended, by attemptingto stop Lady Davenant from speaking imprudently before Carlos; she wasafraid, even at this moment, to irritate her by giving utterance to herdoubts; she determined, therefore, to keep them to herself till she hadsome positive grounds for her suspicions. She resolved to watch the boyvery carefully. Presently, having finished her letters, Lady Davenant rangfor him. Helen's eyes were upon Carlos the moment he entered, and herthoughts did not escape observation.

"You are wrong, Helen," said Lady Davenant, as she lighted the taper toseal her letters.

"If I am not right," said Helen, keeping her eyes upon the boy's changingcountenance, "I am too suspicious--but observe, am I not right, at thisinstant, in thinking that his countenance is _bad?_"

Lady Davenant could not but see that countenance change in an extraordinarymanner, in spite of his efforts to keep it steady.

"You cause that of which you complain," said she, going on sealing herletters deliberately. "In courts of public justice, and in private equity,"the word _equity_ she pronounced with an austere emphasis, "how often isthe change of countenance misinterpreted. The sensibility of innocence,that cannot bear to be suspected, is often mistaken for the confusion worseconfounded of guilt."

Helen observed, that, as Lady Davenant spoke, and spoke in his favour, theboy's countenance cleared up; that vacillating expression of fear, andconsciousness of having something within him unwhipt of justice, completelydisappeared, and his whole air was now bold and open--towards Helen, almostan air of defiance.

"What do you think is the cause of this change in his countenance--youobserve it, do you not?" asked Helen.

"Yes, and the cause is as plain as the change. He sees I do not suspecthim, though you do; and seeing, Helen, that he has at least one friend inthe world, who will do him justice, the orphan boy takes courage."

"I wish I could be as good as you are, my dearest Lady Davenant," saidHelen; "but I cannot help still feeling, and saying,--I doubt. Now observehim, while I speak; I will turn my eyes away, that my terrible looks maynot confound him. You say he knows that you do not suspect him, and that Ido. How does he know it?"

"How!" said Lady Davenant. "By the universal language of the eyes."

"Not only by that universal language, I think," said Helen; "but I suspecthe understands every word we say."

Helen, without ever looking up from a bunch of seals which she was rubbingbright, slowly and very distinctly added,

"I think that he can speak, read, and write English."

A change in the countenance of Carlos appeared, notwithstanding all hisefforts to hold his features in the same position; instead of placidcomposure there was now grim rigidity.

"Give me the great seal with the coat of arms on it," said Lady Davenant,dropping the wax on her letter, and watching the boy's eye as she spoke,without herself looking towards the seal she had described. He neverstirred, and Helen began to fear she was unjust and suspicious. But againher doubts, at least of his disposition, occurred: as she was passingthrough Lady Davenant's dressing-room with her, when they were going downto dinner, the page following them, Helen caught his figure in a mirror,and saw that he was making a horrible grimace at her behind her back, hisdark countenance expressing extreme hatred and revenge. Helen touched LadyDavenant's arm, but, before her eye could be directed to the glass, Carlos,perceiving that he was observed, pretended to be suddenly seized with thecramp in his foot, which obliged him to make these frightful contortions.Helen was shocked by his artfulness, but it succeeded with Lady Davenant:it was in vain to say more about it to her, so Helen let it pass. When shementioned it afterwards to Lady Cecilia, she said--"I am sorry, for yoursake, Helen, that this happened; depend upon it, that revengeful littlePortuguese gnome will work you mischief some time or other." Helen did notthink of herself--indeed she could not imagine any means by which he couldpossibly work her woe; but the face was so horrible, that it came again andagain before her eyes, and she was more and more determined to watch Carlosconstantly.

This was one of the public days at Clarendon Park, on which there was agood deal of company; many of the neighbouring gentry were to be atdinner. When Lady Davenant appeared, no inquiries concerning her healthwere made by her daughter or by the general--no allusion to her havingbeen unwell. She seemed quite recovered, and Helen observed that sheparticularly exerted herself, and that her manner was more gracious thanusual to commonplace people--more present to everything that was passing.She retired however early, and took Helen with her. The depression of herspirits, or rather the weight upon her mind, appeared again as soon asthey were alone together. She took her writing-desk, and looked over someletters which she said ought to be burned. She could not sleep in peace,she said--she ought not to sleep, till this was done. Several of these, asshe looked over them, seemed to give her pain, and excited her indignationor contempt as she from time to time exclaimed--"Meanness!--corruption!--ingratitude too!--all favours forgotten! To see--to feel this--is thecommon fate of all who have lived the life I have lived; of this I am notso inconsistent as to complain. But it is hard that my own character--theintegrity of a whole life--should avail me nothing! And yet," added she,after a moment's pause of reflection, "to how few can my character bereally known! Women cannot, like men, make their characters known bypublic actions. I have no right to complain; but if Lord Davenant's honouris to be--" She paused; her thoughts seeming too painful for utterance.She completed the arrangement of the papers, and, as she pressed down thelid of her writing-box, and heard the closing sound of the lock, shesaid,--"Now I may sleep in peace." She put out the lamp, and went to herbed-room, carrying with her two or three books which she intended to readafter she should be in bed; for, though she talked of sleeping, it wasplain she thought she should not. Helen prevailed upon her to let herremain with her, and read to her.

She opened first a volume of Shakspeare, in which was Lady Davenant'smark. "Yes," said she, "read that speech of Wolsey's; read that wholescene, the finest picture of ambition ever drawn." And, after she hadheard the scene, she observed that there is no proof more certain of thetruth of poetic description, than its recurring to us at the time westrongly feel. "Those who tell us," continued she, "that it is unnaturalto recollect poetry or eloquence at times of powerful emotion, are muchmistaken; they have not strong feelings or strong imaginations. I canaffirm from my own experience, that it is perfectly natural." LadyDavenant rapidly mentioned some instances of this sort which sherecollected, but seeing the anxiety of Helen's look, she added, "You areafraid that I am feverish; you wish me to rest; then, go on reading tome."

Helen read on, till Lady Davenant declared she would not let her sit up anylonger. "Only, before you go, my dear child, look here at what I have beenlooking at while you have been reading." She made Helen place herself so asto see exactly in the same direction and light in which she was looking,and she pointed out to her, in the lining of the bed, a place where, fromthe falling of the folds and the crinkles in the material, a figure withthe head, head-dress, and perfect profile of an old woman with a turned-upchin, appeared. At first Helen could not see it; but at last she caughtit, and was struck with it. "The same sort of curious effect of chanceresemblance and coincidence which painters, Leonardo da Vinci inparticular, have observed in the moss and stains on old stones," observedLady Davenant. "But it struck me to-night, Helen, perhaps because I ama little feverish--it struck me in a new point of view--moral, notpicturesque. If such be the effects of chance, or of coincidence, howcautious we should be in deciding from appearances, or pronouncing fromcircumstantial evidence upon the guilt of evil design in any humancreature."

"You mean this to apply to me about Carlos?" said Helen.

"I do. But not only of him and you was I thinking, but of myself and thosewho judge of me falsely from coincidences, attributing to me designs whichI never had, and actions of which I am incapable." She suddenly raisedherself in her bed, and was going to say more, but the pendule striking atthat instant two o'clock, she stopped abruptly, kissed Helen, and sent heraway.

Helen gathered together and carried away with her all the books, that LadyDavenant might not be tempted to look at them more. As she had severalpiled on one arm, and had a taper in her hand, she was somewhat encumbered,and, though she managed to open the bed-room door, and to shut it againwithout letting any of the books fall, and crossed the little ante-roombetween the bed-chamber and dressing-room safely, yet, as she was openingthe dressing-room door, and taking too much or too little care of some partof her pyramid of books, down came the whole pile with a noise which, inthe stillness of the night, sounded tremendous. She was afraid it woulddisturb Lady Davenant, and was going back to tell her what it was, when shewas startled by hearing, as she thought, the moving of a chair or table inthe dressing-room: she stopped short to listen--all was silent; she thoughtshe had mistaken the direction in which the noise came.

She softly opened the dressing-room door, and looked in--all was silent--nochair, or stool, or table overturned, every thing was in its place exactlyas they had left it, but there was a strong smell of a half extinguishedlamp: she thought it had been put out when they had left the room, she nowsupposed it had not been sufficiently lowered, she turned the screw, andtook care now to see it completely extinguished; then went back for thebooks, and as people sometimes will, when most tired and most late, be mostorderly, she would not go to bed without putting every volume in its placein the book-case. After reaching to put one book upon the highest shelf,as she was getting down she laid her hand on the top of Lady Davenant'swriting-box, and, as she leaned on it, was surprised to hear the click ofits lock closing. The sound was so peculiar she could not be mistaken;besides, she thought she had felt the lid give way under her pressure.There was no key left in the lock--she perfectly recollected the very soundof that click when Lady Davenant shut the lid down before leaving the roomthis night. She stood looking at the lock, and considering how this couldbe, and as she remained perfectly still, she heard, or thought she heardsome one breathing near her. Holding in her own breath, she listenedand cautiously looked round without stirring from the place where shestood--one of the window curtains moved, so at least she thought--yes,certainly there was some living thing behind it. It might be LadyDavenant's great dog; but looking again at the bottom of the curtain shesaw a human foot. The page, Carlos! was her instant suspicion, and hisvengeful face came before her, and a vision of a stiletto! or she did notwell know what. She trembled all over; yet she had presence of mind enoughto recollect that she should not seem to take notice. And, while she movedabout the books on the table, she gave another look, and saw that the footwas not withdrawn. She knew she was safe still, it had not been perceivedthat she had seen it; now what was she to do? "Go up to that curtain anddraw it back and face the boy"--but she did not dare; yet he was onlya boy--But it might be a man and not the page. Better go and callsomebody--tell Lady Davenant. She MUST go through the antechamber, and passclose to that curtain to open the door. All this was the thought of onemoment, end she went on holding up the light to the book-shelves as ifin quest of some book, and kept coasting along to gain the door; she wasafraid when she was to pass the window-curtain, either of touching it,or of stumbling over that foot. But she got past without touching orstumbling, opened the door, whisked through--that was done too quickly,but she could not help it,--she shut, bolted the door, and ran across theante-chamber to Lady Davenant's bed-room. She entered softly, aware of thedanger to her of sudden alarm. But Lady Davenant was not asleep, was notalarmed, but was _effective_ in a moment. First she asked:--"Did you lockthe door after you?" "Yes, bolted it,"--"That is well." Neither of themsaid. "Who do you think it is?" But each knew what the other thought. Theyreturned through the ante-chamber to the dressing-room. But when theyopened the door, all was quiet--no one behind the curtain, no one in theroom--they searched under the sofas, everywhere; there was no closet orhiding-place in which any one could be concealed. The window fasteningswere unstirred. But the door into the gallery was unlocked, and the simplething appeared--that Helen, in her confusion, had thought only of fasteningthe door into the ante-chamber, which also opened on the gallery, but hadtotally forgotten to lock that from the dressing-room into the gallery, bywhich whoever had been in the room had escaped without any difficulty. LadyDavenant rather inclined to believe that no one had been there, and that itwas all Helen's imagination. But Helen persisted that she had seen what shehad seen, and heard what she had heard. They went into the gallery--allsilence, no creature visible, and the doors at the ends of the gallerylocked outside.

After a fruitless search they retired, Lady Davenant to her own room, andHelen to hers, full of shame and regret that she had not had the courageto open the curtain at the right moment. Nothing could stir her belief,however, in the evidence of her senses; the boy must have been there, andmust be still concealed somewhere in the gallery, or in some of the roomsopening into it. Some of these were unoccupied, but they were all lockedup, as Lady Davenant had told her when she had proposed searching them;one or two they tried and found fastened. She stood at her own door, afterhaving put down the candle on her table, still giving a lingering look-out,when, through the darkness in the gallery at the further end, she saw a rayof light on the floor, which seemed to come from under the door of a roomunoccupied--Mr. Mapletofft's room; he had gone to town with Lord Davenant.Helen went on tiptoe very softly along the gallery, almost to this door,when it suddenly opened, and the page stood before her, the lamp in hishand shining full on his face and on hers. Both started--then both weremotionless for one second--but he, recovering instantly, shot back againinto the room, flung to the door, and locked it.

"Seen him!" cried Lady Davenant, when Helen flew to her room and told her;"seen him! do you say?" and then ringing her bell, she bade Helen run andknock at the general's door, while she went herself to Mr. Mapletofft'sroom, commanding Carlos to open the door immediately. But he would not openit, nor make any answer; the servants came, and the general ordered one togo round to the windows of the room lest the boy should escape that way. Itwas too late, he had escaped; when the door was forced, one of the windowswas found open; Carlos was not in the room; he must have swung himself downfrom the height by means of a tree which was near the window. The lamp wasstill burning, and papers half burnt smouldering on the table. There weresufficient remains to tell what they had been. Lady Davenant saw, in thehandwriting of Carlos, copies of letters taken from her desk. One halfunburnt cover of the packet he had been making up, showed by its directionto whom it was to have been sent, and there were a few lines in the boy'sown writing within--side-addressed to his employer, which revealed the whole.His employer was, as Lady Davenant had suspected--the diplomatist!

A duplicate Bramah key was found under the table, and she recollected thatshe had some months ago missed this duplicate key of her desk, and supposedshe had dropped it from her watch-ring while out walking; she recollected,further, that Carlos had with great zeal assisted her in the search forit all through the shrubbery walks. The proofs of this boy's artifice andlong-premeditated treachery, accumulating upon Lady Davenant, shocked herso much that she could not think of anything else. "Is it possible? isit in human nature?" she exclaimed. "Such falsehood, such art, suchingratitude!" As she fixed her eyes upon the writing, scarcely yet dry, sherepeated. "It _is_ his writing--I see it, yet can scarcely believe it! I,who taught him to write myself--guided that little hand to make the firstletters that he ever formed! And this is in human nature! I could not haveconceived it--it is dreadful to be so convinced, it lowers one's confidencein one's fellow-creatures. That is the worst of all!" She sighed deeply,and then, turning to Helen, said, "But let us think no more of it to-night,we can do no more, they are in pursuit of him; I hope I may never, never,see him more."

CHAPTER XIII.

Some people value their friends most for active service, some for passivekindness. Some are won by tender expressions, some convinced by solidproofs of regard; others of a yet nobler kind, and of this sort was LadyDavenant, are apt to be best pleased, most touched, by proofs that theirown character has been thoroughly understood, and that they have justlyappreciated the good qualities of their friend. More than by all thekindness and sympathy Helen had ever before shown her was she now pleasedand touched by the respect for her feelings in this affair of the page.Helen never having at the moment of his detection nor afterwards, by wordor look, indulged in the self-triumph of "You see how right I was!" whichimplies, "You see how wrong you were!" On the contrary, she gave whatcomfort she honestly could by showing that she knew from what humanemotives and generous feelings Lady Davenant had persisted in supportingthis boy to the last.

As to the little wretch himself, he appeared no more. Search was made forhim in every direction, but he was not to be found, and Helen thought itwas well that Lady Davenant should be spared the pain of seeing or hearingmore about him.

The whole mystery was now solved, the difficulty for Lady Davenant in afair way to be ended. She had felt an instinctive aversion to the fawningtone of the diplomatist, whom she had suspected of caballing against LordDavenant secretly, and it was now proved that he had been base beyond whatshe could have conceived possible; had been in confederacy with this boy,whom he had corrupted, purchasing from him copies of private letters, andbribing him to betray his benefactress. The copy of that letter from anillustrious personage had been thus obtained. The proofs now brought hometo the guilty person, deprived him at once of all future means of injuringLord Davenant. Completely in their power, he would be ready to ensuresilence at any price, and, instead of caballing further, this low intriguerwould now be compelled to return from whence he came, too happy to bepermitted to retreat from his situation, and quit England without beingbrought to public disgrace. No notice of the report that had been inprivate circulation against Lady Davenant having yet appeared in the publicprints, it was possible to prevent the mischief that even the mention ofher name in such an affair must have occasioned. It was necessary, however,that letters should be written immediately to the different persons whomthe private reports had reached; and Helen and her daughter trembled forher health in consequence of this extreme hurry and fatigue, but sherepeated her favourite maxim--"Better to wear out, than to rust out"--andshe accomplished all that was to be done. Lord Davenant wrote in triumphthat all was settled, all difficulties removed, and they were to set outfor Russia immediately.

And now Lady Davenant breathed freely. Relieved from the intolerablethought that the base finger of suspicion could point at her or at LordDavenant, her spirits rose, her whole appearance renovated, and all thefears that Helen and her daughter had felt, lest she should not be ableto sustain the hardships of a long voyage and the rigour of a northernclimate, were now completely dispelled.

The day of departure was fixed--Lady Davenant remained, however, as longas she possibly could with her daughter; and she was anxious, too, to seeGranville Beauclerc before she left Clarendon Park.

The number of the days of quarantine were gone over every morning atbreakfast by Lady Cecilia and the general; they looked in the paperscarefully for the arrivals at the hotel which Beauclerc usually frequented.This morning, in reading the list aloud, the general came to the name ofSir Thomas D'Aubigny, brother to the colonel. The paragraph stated thatColonel D'Aubigny had left some manuscripts to his brother, which wouldsoon be published, and then followed some puff in the usual style, whichthe general did not think it necessary to read. But one of the officers,who knew some of the D'Aubignys, went on talking of the colonel, andrelating various anecdotes to prove that his souvenirs would be amusing.Helen, who was conscious that she always blushed when Colonel D'Aubigny'sname was mentioned, and that the general had observed it, was glad that henever looked up from what he was reading, and when she had courage to turntowards her, she admired Cecilia's perfect self-possession. Beauclerc'sname was not among the arrivals, and it was settled consequently that theyshould not see him this day.

Some time after they had left the breakfast-room, Helen found Lady Davenantin her own apartment, sitting, as it was very unusual with her, perfectlyunemployed--her head leaning on her hand, and an expression of pain in hercountenance. "Are not you well, my dear Lady Davenant?" Helen asked.

"My mind is not well," she replied, "and that always affects my body, andI suppose my looks." After a moment's silence she fixed her eyes on Helen,and said, "You tell me that Colonel D'Aubigny never was a lover--never wasan admirer of yours?"

"Never!" said Helen, low, but very decidedly. Lady Davenant sighed, but didnot speak.

After a longer continuance of silence than had almost ever occurred whenthey two were alone together, Lady Davenant looked up, and said, "I hope inGod that I am mistaken. I pray that I may never live to see it!"

"To see what?" cried Helen.

"To see that one little black spot, invisible to you, Helen, the speck ofevil in that heart--my daughter's heart--spread and taint, and destroy allthat is good. It must be cut out--at any pain it must be cut away; if anypart be unsound, the corruption will spread."

"Corruption in Cecilia!" exclaimed Helen. "Oh! I know her--I know her fromdear childhood! there is nothing corrupt in her, no, not a thought!"

"My dear Helen, you see her as she has been--as she is. I see her as shemay become--very--frightfully different. Helen! if truth fail, if theprinciple of truth fail in her character, all will fail! All that charmingnature, all that fair semblance, all that fair reality, all this brightsummer's dream of happiness, even love--the supreme felicity of herwarm heart--even love will fail her. Cecilia will lose her husband'saffections!"

Helen uttered a faint cry.

"Worse!" continued Lady Davenant. "Worse! she will lose her own esteem, shewill sink, but I shall be gone," cried she, and pressing her hand uponher heart, she faintly repeated, "Gone!" And then abruptly added, "CallCecilia! I must see Cecilia, I must speak to her. But first I will tellyou, from a few words that dropped this morning from General Clarendon, Isuspect--I fear that Cecilia has deceived him!"

"Impossible!--about what--about whom?"

"That Colonel D'Aubigny," said Lady Davenant.

"I know all about it, and it was all nothing but nonsense. Did you look ather when the general read that paragraph this morning--did you see thatinnocent countenance?"

"I saw it, Helen, and thought as you did, but I have been so deceived--solately in countenance!"

"Not by hers--never."

"Not by yours, Helen, never. And yet, why should I say so? This verymorning, yours, had I not known you, yours would have misled me."

"Oh, my foolish absurd habit of blushing, how I wish I could prevent it!"said Helen; "I know it will make me betray somebody some time or other."

"Betray! What have you to betray?" cried Lady Davenant, leaning forwardwith an eagerness of eye and voice that startled Helen from all power ofimmediate reply. After an instant's pause, however, she answered firmly,"Nothing, Lady Davenant, and that there is nothing wrong to be known aboutCecilia, I as firmly believe as that I stand here at this moment. Can yoususpect anything really wrong?"

"Suspect!--wrong!" cried Lady Davenant, starting up, with a look in hereyes which made Helen recoil. "Helen, what can you conceive that I suspectwrong?--Cecilia?--Captain D'Aubigny?--What did you mean? Wrong did yousay?--of Cecilia? Could you mean--could you conceive, Helen, that I, havingsuch a suspicion could be here--living with her--or--living anywhere--" Andshe sank down on the sofa again, seized with sudden spasm--in a convulsionof agonising pain. But she held Helen's hand fast grasped, detainingher--preventing her from pulling the bell; and by degrees the pain passedoff, the livid hue cleared away, the colour of life once more returned, butmore tardily than before, and Helen was excessively alarmed.

"Poor child! my poor, dear child, I feel--I hear your heart beating. Youare a coward, Helen, but a sweet creature; and I love you--and I love mydaughter. What were we saying?"

"Oh, say no more! say no more now, for Heaven's sake," said Helen, kneelingbeside her; and, yielding to that imploring look, Lady Davenant, with afond smile, parted the hair on her forehead, kissed her, and remainedperfectly quiet and silent for some time.

"I am quite well again now," said she, "and quite composed. If Cecilia hastold her husband the whole truth, she will continue to be, as she is, ahappy wife; but if she have deceived him in the estimation of a singleword--she is undone. With him, of all men, never will confidence, oncebroken, unite again. Now General Clarendon told me this morning--wouldI had known it before the marriage!--that he had made one point with mydaughter, and only one, on the faith of which he married: the point was,that she should tell him, if she had ever loved any other man. And she toldhim--I fear from some words which he said afterwards--I am sure he is inthe belief--the certainty, that his wife never loved any man breathing buthimself."

"Nor did she," said Helen. "I can answer for it--she has told him thetruth--and she has nothing to fear, nor have you."

"You give me new life!" cried Lady Davenant, her face becoming suddenlyradiant with hope; "but how can you answer for this, Helen? You had no partin any deceit, I am sure, but there was something about a miniature ofyou, which I found in Colonel D'Aubigny's hands one day. That was done, Ithought at the time, to deceive me, to make me believe that you were hisobject.--Deceit there was."

"On his part," said Helen, "much and always; but on Cecilia's there wasonly, from her over-awe of you, some little concealment; but the whole wasbroken off and repented of, whatever little there was, long since. And asto loving him, she never did; she told me so then, and often and often shehas told me so since."

"Convince me of that," said Lady Davenant; "convince me that she thoughtwhat she said. I believe, indeed, that till she met General Clarendonshe never felt any enthusiastic attachment, but I thought she liked thatman--it was all coquetry, flirting nonsense perhaps. Be it so--I am willingto believe it. Convince me but that she is true--there is the only point ofconsequence. The man is dead and gone, the whole in oblivion, and all thatis of importance is her truth; convince me but of that, and I am a happymother."

Helen brought recollections, and proofs from conversations at the time andletters since, confirming at least Cecilia's own belief that she had neverloved the man, that it was all vanity on her part and deception on his:Lady Davenant listened, willing to be convinced.

"And now," said she, "let us put this matter out of our minds entirely--Iwant to talk to you of yourself."

She took Helen out with her in her pony-phaeton, and spoke of GranvilleBeauclerc, and of his and Helen's prospects of happiness.

Lady Cecilia, who was riding with her husband in some fields adjoining thepark, caught a glimpse of the phaeton as it went along the avenue, and,while the general was giving some orders to the wood-ranger about a newplantation, she, telling him that she would be back in two minutes,cantered off to overtake her mother, and, making a short cut across thefields, she leaped a wide ha-ha which came in her way. She was an excellenthorse-woman, and Fairy carried her lightly over; and when she heard thegeneral's voice in dismay and indignation at what she had done, she turnedand laughed, and cantered on till she overtook the phaeton. The breeze hadblown her hair most becomingly, and raised her colour, and her eyes werejoyously bright, and her light figure, always well on horseback, now lookedso graceful as she bent to speak to her mother, that her husband could notfind it in his heart to scold her, and he who came to chide remained toadmire. Her mother, looking up at her, could not help exclaiming,

"Well! certainly, you are an excessively pretty creature!"

"Bearers of good news always look well, I believe," said she, smiling; "sothere is now some goodness in my face."

"That there certainly is," said her mother, fondly.

"But you certainly don't know what it is--you cannot know till I tellyou, my dearest Helen--my dear mother, I mean. Granville Beauclerc willbe here to-day--I am sure of it. So pray do not go far from home--do notgo out of the grounds: this was what I was in such a hurry to say toyou."

"But how do you know, Cecilia?"

"Just because I can read," replied she, "because I can read a newspaperthrough, which none of you newspaper-readers by profession could do thismorning. After you all of you laid them down I took them up, and foundin that evening paper which your stupid aide-de-camp had been poring andboring over, a fresh list of arrivals, and Mr. Granville Beauclerc amongthem at full length. Now he would not stay a moment longer in town than wasabsolutely necessary, you know, or else he ought to be excommunicated. Butit is not in his nature to delay; he will be here directly--I should not besurprised--"

"You are right, Cecilia," interrupted the general. "I see a caleche on thatroad.--It is he."

The caleche turned into the park, and in a few minutes theymet.--Carriages, horses, and servants, were sent off to the house, whilethe whole party walked, and talked, and looked. Lady Cecilia was indelightful spirits, and so affectionately, so delicately joyful--so kind,that if Helen and Beauclerc had ever blamed, or had reason to blame her, itmust now be for ever forgotten. As, in their walk, they came near thatseat by the water's side where the lovers had parted, Cecilia whisperedsomething to her mother, and instantly it was "done as desired." Beauclercand Helen were left to their own explanations, and the rest of the partypursued their walk home. Of what passed in this explanatory scene no notehas been transmitted to the biographer, and we must be satisfied with theresult.

CHAPTER XIV.

"All is right!" cried Lady Cecilia. "O my dear mother, I am the happiestcreature in the world, if you were not going away; could not you stay--alittle, a very little longer--just till--"

All her preparations were made--in short, it must be so, and Lady Davenantbegged her daughter would not spend the short remaining time they were tohave together in entreaties, distressing and irritating to the feelings ofthose who ask and of those who must refuse. "Let us enjoy in peace," saidshe, "all that is to be enjoyed this day before I go."

When Helen entered the drawing-room before dinner, knowing that she wasvery late, she found assembled Lady Davenant, Beauclerc, and the officers,but Cecilia was not there, nor did the punctual general make hisappearance; the dinner-hour was passed, a servant had twice looked in toannounce it, and, seeing neither my lady nor the general, had in surpriseretired. Silence prevailed--what could be the matter? So unusual for thegeneral to be late. The general came in, hurried--very uncommon in him,and, after saying a few words in a low voice to Lady Davenant, whoimmediately went up stairs, he begged pardon, was very sorry he had keptdinner waiting, but Lady Cecilia had been taken ill--had fainted--she wasbetter--he hoped it was nothing that would signify--she was lying down--hebegged they would go to dinner. And to dinner they went, and when LadyDavenant returned she put Helen's mind at ease by saying it was only alittle faintishness from over-fatigue. She had prescribed rest, and Ceciliahad herself desired to be left quite alone. After dinner Lady Davenant wentup again to see her, found her not so well--feverish; she would not letHelen go to her--they would talk if they were together, and she thought itnecessary to keep Cecilia very quiet. If she would but submit to this, shewould be well again probably in the morning. At tea-time, and in the courseof the evening twice, Cecilia sent to beg to speak to Helen; but LadyDavenant and the general joined in requesting her not to go. The generalwent himself to Lady Cecilia to enforce obedience, and he reported that shehad submitted with a good grace.

Helen was happily engaged by Beauclerc's conversation during the rest ofthe evening. It was late before they retired, and when she went up-stairs,Felicie said that her lady was asleep, and had been asleep for the last twohours, and she was sure that after such good rest her ladyship would beperfectly well in the morning. Without further anxiety about her friend,therefore, Helen went to her own room. It was a fine moonlight night, andshe threw open the shutters, and stood for a long time looking out upon themoonlight, which she loved; and even after she had retired to bed it waslong before she could sleep. The only painful thought in her mind was ofLady Davenant's approaching departure; without her, all happiness wouldbe incomplete; but still, hope and love had much that was delightful towhisper, and, as she at last sank to sleep, Beauclerc's voice seemed stillspeaking to her in soft sounds. Yet the dream which followed was uneasy;she thought that they were standing together in the library, at the opendoor of the conservatory, by moonlight, and he asked her to walk out,and when she did not comply, all changed, and she saw him walking withanother--with Lady Castlefort; but then the figure changed to oneyounger--more beautiful--it must be, as the beating of Helen's heart inthe dream told her--it must be Lady Blanche. Without seeing Helen, however,they seemed to come on, smiling and talking low to each other along thematted alley of the conservatory, almost to the very door where she wasstill, as she thought, standing with her hand upon the lock, and then theystopped, and Beauclerc pulled from an orange-tree a blossom which seemedthe very same which Helen had given to him that evening, he offered it toLady Blanche, and something he whispered; but at this moment the handle ofthe lock seemed to slip, and Helen awoke with a start; and when she wasawake, the noise of her dream seemed to continue; she heard the real soundof a lock turning--her door slowly opened, and a white figure appeared.Helen started up in her bed, and awaking thoroughly, saw that it was onlyCecilia in her dressing-gown.

"Cecilia! What's the matter, my dear? are you worse?"

Lady Cecilia put her finger on her lips, closed the door behind her,and said, "Hush! hush! or you'll waken Felicie; she is sleeping in thedressing-room to-night. Mamma ordered it, in case I should want her."

"And how are you now? What can I do for you?"

"My dear Helen, you can do something for me indeed. But don't get up. Liedown and listen to me. I want to speak to you."

"Sit down, then, my dear Cecilia, sit down here beside me."

"No, no, I need not sit down, I am very well, standing. Only let me saywhat I have to say. I am quite well."

"Quite well! indeed you are not. I feel you all trembling. You must sitdown, indeed, my dear," said Helen, pressing her.

She sat down. "Now listen to me--do not waste time, for I can't stay. Oh!if the general should awake and find me gone."

"What is the matter, my dear Cecilia? Only tell me what I can do for you."

"That is the thing; but I am afraid, now it is come to the point." LadyCecilia breathed quick and short. "I am almost afraid to ask you to do thisfor me."

"Afraid! my dear Cecilia, to ask me to do anything in this world for you!How can you be afraid? Tell me only what it is at once."

"I am very foolish--I am very weak. I know you love me--would do anythingfor me, Helen. And this is the simplest thing in the world, but thegreatest favour--the greatest service. It is only just to receive a packet,which the general will give you in the morning. He will ask if it is foryou. And you will just accept of it. I don't ask you to say it is yours, orto say a word about it--only receive it for me."

"Yes, I will, to be sure. But why should he give it to me, and not toyourself?"

"Oh, he thinks, and you must let him think, it is for you, that's all. Willyou promise me?"--But Helen made no answer. "Oh, promise me, promise me,speak, for I can't stay. I will explain it all to you in the morning." Sherose to go.

Lady Cecilia hesitated--said she had not time. "You said, Helen, that youwould take the packet, and you know you must; but I will explain it all asfast as I can. You know I fainted, but you do not know why? I will tellyou exactly how it all happened:--you recollect my coming into the libraryafter I was dressed, before you went up-stairs, and giving you a sprig oforange flowers?"

"Oh yes, I was dreaming of it just now when you came in," said Helen."Well, what of that?"

"Nothing, only you must have been surprised to hear so soon afterwards thatI had fainted."

"Yes," Helen said, she had been very much surprised and alarmed; and againLady Cecilia paused.

"Well, I went from you directly to Clarendon, to give him a rose, which youmay remember I had in my hand for him. I found him in the study, talking tocorporal somebody. He just smiled as I came in, took the rose, and said, 'Ishall be ready this moment:' and looking to a table on which were heaps ofletters and parcels which Granville had brought from town, he added, 'I donot know whether there is anything there for you, Cecilia?' I went to look,and he went on talking to his corporal. He was standing with his back tothe table."

Helen felt that Lady Cecilia told all these minute details as if there wassome fact to which she feared to come. Cecilia went on very quickly. "I didnot find anything for myself; but in tossing over the papers I saw a packetdirected to General Clarendon. I thought it was a feigned hand--and yetthat I knew it--that I had seen it somewhere lately. There was one littleflourish that I recollected; it was like the writing of that wretchedCarlos."

"Carlos!" cried Helen: "well!"

"The more I looked at it," continued Lady Cecilia, "the more like I thoughtit; and I was going to say so to the general, only I waited till he haddone his business: but as I was examining it through the outer cover, ofvery thin foreign paper, I could distinguish the writing of some of theinside, and it was like your hand or like mine. You know, between our handsthere is such a great resemblance, there is no telling one from the other."

Helen did not think so, but she remained silent.

"At least," said Cecilia, answering her look of doubt, "at least thegeneral says so; he never knows our hands asunder. Well! I perceived thatthere was something hard inside--more than papers; and as I felt it, therecame from it an uncommon perfume--a particular perfume, like what I used tohave once, at the time--that time that I can never bear to think of, youknow--"

"I know," said Helen, and in a low voice she added, "you mean about ColonelD'Aubigny."

"The perfume, and altogether I do not know what, quite overcame me. Ihad just sense enough to throw the packet from me: I made an effort, andreached the window, and I was trying to open the sash, I remember; but whathappened immediately after that, I cannot tell you. When I came to myself,I was in my husband's arms; he was carrying me up-stairs--and so muchalarmed about me he was! Oh, Helen, I do so love him! He laid me on thebed, and he spoke so kindly, reproaching me for not taking more care ofmyself--but so fondly! Somehow I could not bear it just then, and I closedmy eyes as his met mine. He, I knew, could suspect nothing--but still! Hestayed beside me, holding my hand: then dinner was ready; he had been twicesummoned. It was a relief to me when he left me. Next, I believe, my mothercame up, and felt my pulse, and scolded me for over-fatiguing myself, andfor that leap; and I pleaded guilty, and it was all very well. I saw shehad not an idea there was anything else. Mamma really is not suspicious,with all her penetration--she is not suspicious."

"And why did you not tell her all the little you had to tell, dear Cecilia?If you had, long ago, when I begged of you to do so--if you had told yourmother all about--"

"Told her!" interrupted Cecilia; "told my mother!--oh no, Helen!"

Helen sighed, and feebly said, "Go on."

"Well! when you were at dinner, it came into my poor head that the generalwould open that parcel before I could see you again, and before I could askyour advice and settle with you--before I could know what was to be done. Iwas so anxious, I sent for you twice."

"But Lady Davenant and the general forbade me to go to you."

"Yes,"--Lady Cecilia said she understood that, and she had seen the dangerof showing too much impatience to speak to Helen; she thought it mightexcite suspicion of her having something particular to say, she hadtherefore refrained from asking again. She was not asleep when Helen cameto bed, though Felicie thought she was; she was much too anxious to sleeptill she had seen her husband again; she was awake when he came into hisroom; she saw him come in with some letters and packets in his hand; byhis look she knew all was still safe--he had not opened _that_ particularpacket--he held it among a parcel of military returns in his hand as hecame to the side of the bed on tiptoe to see if she was asleep--to ask howshe did; "He touched my pulse," said Lady Cecilia,--"and I am sure hemight well say it was terribly quick.

"Every instant I thought he would open that packet. He threw it, however,and all the rest, down on the table, to be read in the morning, as usual,as soon as he awoke. After feeling my pulse again, the last thing, andsatisfying himself that it was better--'Quieter now,' said he, he fell fastasleep, and slept so soundly, and I--"

Helen looked at her with astonishment, and was silent.

"Oh speak to me!" said Lady Cecilia, "what do you say, Helen?"

"I say that I cannot imagine why you are so much alarmed about thispacket."

"Because I am a fool, I believe," said Lady Cecilia, trying to laugh. "I amso afraid of his opening it."

"But why?" said Helen, "what do you think there is in it?"

"I have told you, surely! Letters--foolish letters of mine to thatD'Aubigny. Oh how I repent I ever wrote a line to him! And he told me, heabsolutely swore, he had destroyed every note and letter I ever wrote tohim. He was the most false of human beings!"

"He was a very bad man--I always thought so," said Helen; "but, Cecilia, Inever knew that he had any letters of yours."

"Oh yes, you did, my dear, at the time; do not you recollect I showed you aletter, and it was you who made me break off the correspondence?"

"I remember your showing me several letters of his," said Helen, "but notof yours--only one or two notes--asking for that picture back again whichhe had stolen from your portfolio."

"Yes, and about the verses; surely you recollect my showing you anotherletter of mine, Helen!"

"Yes, but these were all of no consequence; there must be more, or youcould not be so much afraid, Cecilia, of the general's seeing these,surely." At this moment Lady Davenant's prophecy, all she had said abouther daughter, flashed across Helen's mind, and with increasing eagernessshe went on. "What is there in those letters that can alarm you so much?"

"I declare I do not know," said Cecilia, "that is the plain truth; I cannotrecollect--I cannot be certain what there is in them." "But it is not solong ago, Cecilia,--only two years?"

"That is true, but so many great events have happened since, and such newfeelings, all that early nonsense was swept out of my mind. I never reallyloved that wretch--"

"Listen to me, Cecilia;" she held her fast. "You must do it, Cecilia."

"Helen, I cannot."

"You can, indeed you can," said Helen; "only have courage _now_, and youwill be happier all your life afterwards."

"Do not ask it--do not ask it--it is all in vain, you are wasting time."

"No, no--not wasting time; and in short, Cecilia, you must do what I askof you, for it is right; and I will not do what you ask of me, for it iswrong."

"You will not!--You will not!" cried Lady Cecilia, breathless. "Afterall! You will not receive the packet for me! you will not let the generalbelieve the letters to be yours! Then I am undone! You will not doit!--Then do not talk to me--do not talk to me--you do not know GeneralClarendon. If his jealousy were once roused, you have no idea what it wouldbe."

"If the man were alive," said Helen, "but since he is dead--"

"But Clarendon would never forgive me for having loved another--"

"You said you did not love him."

"Nor did I ever _really_ love that man; but still Clarendon, from evenseeing those letters, might think I did. The very fact of having writtensuch letters would be destruction to me with Clarendon. You do not knowClarendon. How can I convince you it is impossible for me to tell him? Atthe time he first proposed for me--oh! how I loved him, and feared to losehim. One day my mother, when I was not by, said something--I do not knowwhat, about a first love, let fall something about that hateful D'Aubigny,and the general came to me in such a state! Oh, Helen, in such a state! Ithought it was all at an end. He told me he never would marry any womanon earth who had ever loved another. I told him I never had, and that wastrue, you know; but then I went a little beyond perhaps. I said I had neverTHOUGHT of anybody else, for he made such a point of that. In short, I wasa coward--a fool; I little foresaw--I laughed it off, and told him thatwhat mamma had said was all a mistake, all nonsense; that Colonel D'Aubignywas a sort of universal flirt--and that was very true, I am sure: that hehad admired us both, both you and me, but you last, you most, Helen, Isaid."

"Oh, Cecilia, how could you say so, when you knew he never cared for me inthe least?"

"Forgive me, my dear, for there was no other way; and what harm did it doyou, or what harm can it ever do you? It only makes it the easier foryou to help me--to save me now. And Granville," continued Lady Cecilia,thinking that was the obstacle in Helen's mind, "and Granville need neverknow it."

Helen's countenance suddenly changed--"Granville! I never thought ofthat!" and now that she did think of it, she reproached herself with theselfishness of that fear. Till this moment, she knew her motives had beenall singly for Cecilia's happiness; now the fear she felt of this some wayhurting her with Beauclerc made her less resolute. Lady Cecilia saw hergiving way and hurried on----

"Oh, my dear Helen! I know I have been very wrong, but you would not quitegive me up, would you?--Oh! for my mother's sake! Consider how it would bewith my mother, so ill as you saw her! I am sure if anything broke out nowin my mother's state of health it would be fatal."

Helen became excessively agitated.

"Oh, Helen! would you make me the death of that mother?--Oh, Helen, saveher! and do what you will with me afterwards. It will be only for a fewhours--only a few hours!" repeated Lady Cecilia, seeing that these wordsmade a great impression upon Helen,--"Save me, Helen! save my mother."

She sank upon her knees, clasping her hands in an agony of supplication.Helen bent down her head and was silent--she could no longer refuse. "ThenI must," said she.

Cecilia embraced her, thanked her, blessed her, and hastily left the room,but in an instant afterward she returned, and said, "One thing I forgot,and I must tell you. Think of my forgetting it! The letters are not signedwith my real name, they are signed Emma--Henry and Emma!--Oh folly, folly!My dear, dear friend! save me but now, and I never will be guilty of theleast deception again during my whole life; believe me, believe me! Whenonce my mother is safely gone I will tell Clarendon all. Look at me, dearHelen, look at me and believe me."

And Helen looked at her, and Helen believed her.

CHAPTER XV.

Helen slept no more this night. When alone in the stillness of the longhours, she went over and over again all that had passed, what Ceciliahad said, what she had at first thought and afterwards felt, all thepersuasions by which she had been wrought upon, and, on the contrary, allthe reasons by which she ought to be decided; backward and forward her mindvibrated, and its painful vacillation could not he stilled.

"What am I going to do? To tell a falsehood! That cannot be right; but inthe circumstances--yet this is Cecilia's own way of palliating the faultthat her mother so fears in her--that her mother trusted to me to guardher against; and now, already, even before Lady Davenant has left us, Iam going to assist Cecilia in deceiving her husband, and on that verydangerous point--Colonel D'Aubigny." Lady Davenant's foreboding havingalready been so far accomplished struck Helen fearfully, and her warningvoice in the dead silence of that night sounded, and her look was upon her,so strongly, that she for an instant hid her head to get rid of her image."But what _can_ I do? her own life is at stake! No less a motive could moveme, but this ought--must--shall decide me. Yet, if Lady Davenant were toknow it!--and I, in the last hours I have to pass with her--the last Iever may have with her, shall I deceive her? But it is not deceit, onlyprudence--necessary prudence; what a physician would order, what evenhumanity requires. I am satisfied it is quite right, quite, and I will goto sleep that I may be strong, and calm, and do it all well in the morning.After all, I have been too cowardly; frightening myself about nothing; tooscrupulous--for what is it I have promised? only to receive the letters asif they were mine. Not to _say_ that they are mine; he will not ask me,Cecilia thinks he will not ask me. But how can she tell? if he should, what_can_ I do? I must then answer that they are mine. Indeed it is the samething, for I should lead him to believe it as much by my receiving them insilence; it will be telling or acting an absolute falsehood, and can thatever be right?" Back it came to the same point, and in vain her cheeksettled on the pillow and she thought she could sleep. Then with closedeyes she considered how the general would look, and speak, or not speak."What will he think of me when he sees the picture--the letters? for hemust open the packet. But he will not read them, no, he is too honourable.I do not know what is in them. There can be nothing, however, but nonsense,Cecilia says; yet even so, love-letters he must know they are, and aclandestine correspondence. I heard him once express such contempt for anyclandestine affair. He, who is so nice, so strict, about women's conduct,how I shall sink in his esteem! Well, be it so, that concerns only myself;and it is for his own sake too, to save his happiness; and Cecilia, my dearCecilia, oh I can bear it, and it will be a pride to me to bear it, for Iam grateful; my gratitude shall not be only in words; now, when I am putto the trial, I can do something for my friends. Yes, and I will, let theconsequences be what they may." Yet Beauclerc! that thought was at thebottom of her heart; the fear, the almost certainty, that some wayor other--every way in which she could think of it, it would lead todifficulty with Beauclerc. But this fear was mere selfishness, she thought,and to counteract it came all her generous, all her grateful, all herlong-cherished, romantic love of sacrifice--a belief that she was capableof self-devotion for the friends she loved; and upon the strength of thisidea she fixed at last. Quieted, she soothed herself to repose, and, wornout with reasoning or trying to reason in vain, she at last, in spite ofthe morning light dawning upon her through the unclosed shutters, in a softsort of enthusiastic vision fading away, fell asleep.

She slept long; when she awoke it was with that indescribable feeling thatsomething painful had happened--that something dreadful was to be this day.She recollected, first, that Lady Davenant was to go. Then came all thathad passed with Cecilia. It was late, she saw that her maid had been in theroom, but had refrained from awakening her; she rose, and dressed as fastas she could. She was to go to Lady Davenant, when her bell rang twice. Howto appear before one who knew her countenance so well, without showing thatany thing had happened, was her first difficulty. She looked in her glassto see whether there was any alteration in her face; none that she couldsee, but she was no judge. "How foolish to think so much about it all!" Shedressed, and between times inquired from her maid if she had heard of anychange in Lady Davenant's intentions of going. Had any counter-orders aboutthe carriage been given? None; it was ordered to be at the door by twelveo'clock. "That was well," Helen said to herself. It would all soon be over.Lady Davenant would be safe, then she could bear all the rest; next shehoped, that any perturbation or extraordinary emotion in herself wouldnot be observed in the hurry of departure, or would be thought natural atparting with Lady Davenant. "So then, I come at every turn to some littledeceit," thought she, "and I must, I must!" and she sighed.

Helen sighed again. "Very sad indeed." Suddenly a thought darted into hermind, that the whole danger might be avoided. A hope came that the generalmight not open the packet before Lady Davenant's departure, in which caseCecilia could not expect that she should abide by her promise, as it wasonly conditional. It had been made really on her mother's account; Ceciliahad said that if once her mother was safe out of the house, she could then,and she would the very next day tell the whole to her husband. Helen sprangfrom under the hands of her maid as she was putting up her hair behind, andran to Cecilia's dressing-room, but she was not there. It was now her usualtime for coming, and Helen left open the door between them, that she mightgo to her before Felicie should be rung for. She waited impatiently, but noCecilia came. The time, to her impatience, seemed dreadfully long. But hermaid observed, that as her ladyship had not been well yesterday, it was nowonder she was later this morning than usual.

"Very true, but there is somebody coming along the gallery now, see if thatis Lady Cecilia."

"No, ma'am, Mademoiselle Felicie."

Mademoiselle Felicie said ditto to Helen's own maid, and, moreover,supposed her lady might not have slept well. Just then, one littleperemptory knock at the door was heard.

"Bon Dieu! C'est Monsieur le General!" exclaimed Felicie.

It was so--Felicie went to the door and returned with the general'scompliments to Miss Stanley, and he begged to see her as soon as itmight suit her convenience in the library, before she went into thebreakfast-room, and after she should have seen Lady Cecilia, who wished tosee her immediately.

Helen found Lady Cecilia in bed, looking as if she had been much agitated,two spots of carnation colour high up in her cheeks, a well-known sign inher of great emotion. "Helen!" she cried, starting up the moment Helen camein, "he has opened the packet, and you see me alive. But I do believe Ishould have died, when it came to the point, but for you--dearest Helen,I should have been, and still but for you I must be, undone--and mymother--oh! if he had gone to her!"

"What has happened, tell me clearly, my dear Cecilia, and quickly, for Imust go to General Clarendon; he has desired to see me as soon as I canafter seeing you."

"I know, I know," said Cecilia, "but he will allow time, and you had betterbe some time with me, for he thinks I have all to explain to you thismorning--and so I have, a great deal to say to you; sit down--quietly--Ohif you knew how I have been agitated, I am hardly able yet tell anythingrightly." She threw herself back on the pillows, and drew a long breath, asif to relieve the oppression of mind and body. "Now I think I can tell it."

"Every word, every look, to the utmost, as far as I can recollect, asif you had been present. Give me your hand, Helen, how cool youare--delightful! but how you tremble!"

"Never mind," said Helen; "but how burning hot your hand is!"

"No matter. If ever I am well or happy again in this world, Helen, I shallowe it to you. After I left you I found the general fast asleep, I do notbelieve he had ever awoke--I lay awake for hours, till past five o'clockin the morning, I was wide awake--feverish. But can you conceive it? justthen, when I was most anxious to be awake, when I knew there was but onehour--not so much, till he would awake and read that packet, I felt anirresistible sleepiness come over me; I turned and turned, and tried tokeep my eyes open, and pulled and pinched my fingers. But all would not do,and I fell asleep, dreaming that I was awake, and how long I slept I cannottell you, so deep, so dead asleep I must have been; but the instant I didawake, I started up and drew back the curtain, and I saw--oh, Helen! therewas Clarendon dressed--standing with his arms folded--a letter open hangingfrom his hand. His eyes were fixed upon me, waiting, watching for my firstlook: he saw me glance at the letter in his hand, and then at the packet onthe table near the bed. For an instant neither of us spoke: I could not,nor exclaim even; but surprised, terrified, he must have seen I was. As Ileaned forward, holding by the curtains, he pulled one of them suddenlyback, threw open the shutters, and the full glare was upon my face. I shutmy eyes--I could not help it--and shrank; but, gathering strength fromabsolute terror of his silence, I spoke: I asked, 'For Heaven's sake!Clarendon, what is the matter? Why do you look so?'

"Oh, that look of his! still fixed on me--the same as I once saw before wewere married--once, and but once, when he came from my mother to me aboutthis man. Well! I put my hands before my eyes; he stepped forward, drewthem down, and placed the open letter before me, and then asked me, in aterrible sort of suppressed voice, 'Cecilia, whose writing is this?'

"The writing was before my eyes, but I literally could not see it--it wasall a sort of maze. He saw I could not read it, and calmly bade me 'Taketime--examine--is it a forgery?'

"A forgery!--that had never crossed my mind, and for an instant I wastempted to say it was; but quickly I saw that would not do: there was theminiature, and that could not be a forgery. 'No,' I answered, 'I do notthink it is a forgery.'

"'What then?' said he, so hastily that I could hardly hear; and before Icould think what to answer, he said, 'I must see Lady Davenant.' He steppedtowards the bell; I threw myself upon his arm--'Good Heavens! do not,Clarendon, if you are not out of your senses.' 'I am not out of my senses,Cecilia, I am perfectly calm; answer me, one word only--is this yourwriting? Oh! my dear Helen, then it was that you saved me.'"

"I!"

"Yes, forgive me, Helen, I answered, 'There is a handwriting so like, thatyou never can tell it from mine. Ask me no more, Clarendon,' I said.

"I saw a flash of light, as it were, come across his face--it was hope--butstill it was not certainty. I saw this: oh! how quick one sees. He pointedto the first words of the letter, held his finger under them, and his handtrembled--think of his hand trembling! 'Read,' he said, and I read. How Ibrought myself to pronounce the words, I cannot imagine. I read what, as Ihope for mercy, I had no recollection of ever having written--'My dear, toodear Henry.' 'Colonel D'Aubigny?' said the general. I answered, 'Yes.' Helooked astonished at my self-possession--and so was I. For another instanthis finger rested, pressing down there under the words, and his eyes on myface, as if he would have read into my soul. 'Ask me no more,' I repeated,scarcely able to speak; and something I said, I believe, about honour andnot betraying you. He turned to the signature, and, putting his hand downupon it, asked, 'What name is signed to this letter?' I answered, I haveseen--I know--I believe it is 'Emma.'

"'You knew then of this correspondence?' was his next question. I confessedI did. He said that was wrong, 'but quite a different affair' from havingbeen engaged in it myself, or some such word. His countenance cleared; thatpale look of the forehead, the fixed purpose of the eye, changed. Oh! Icould see--I understood it all with half a glance--saw the natural colourcoming back, and tenderness for me returning--yet some doubt lingeringstill. He stood, and I heard some half-finished sentences. He said that youmust have been very young at that time; I said, 'Yes, very young:'--'Andthe man was a most artful man,' he observed; I said. 'Yes, very artful.'That was true, I am sure. Clarendon then recollected that you showed someemotion one day when Colonel D'Aubigny was first mentioned--at that time,you know, when we heard of his death. I said nothing. The general wenton: 'I could hardly have believed all this of Helen Stanley,' he said. Hequestioned no farther:--and oh! Helen, what do you think I did next? but itwas the only thing left me to put an end to doubts, which, to _me_, musthave been fatal--forgive me, Helen!"

"Tell me what you did," said Helen.

"Cannot you guess?"

"You told him positively that I wrote the letters?"

"No, not so bad, I never said that downright falsehood--no, I could not;but I did almost as bad."

"Pray tell me at once, my dear Cecilia."

"Then, in the first place, I stretched out my hand for the whole packet ofletters which lay on the table untouched."

"Well?"

"Well, he put them into my hands and said, 'There is no direction on thesebut to myself, I have not looked at any of them except this, which inignorance I first opened; I have not read one word of any of the others.'"

"Well," said Helen; "and what did you do?"

"I said I was not going to read any of the letters, that I was only lookingfor--now, Helen, you know--I told you there was something hard in theparcel, something more than papers, I was sure what it must be--theminiature--the miniature of you, which I painted, you know, that I mighthave it when you were gone, and which _he_ stole, and pretended before mymother to be admiring as your likeness, but he kept it only because it wasmy painting. I opened the paper in which it was folded; Clarendon dartedupon it--'It is Helen!' and then he said. 'How like! how beautiful! howunworthy of that man!'

"But, oh, Helen, think of what an escape I had next. There was my name--myinitials C. D. at the bottom of the picture, as the painter; and thathorrible man, not content with his initials opposite to mine, had on theback written at full length, 'For Henry D'Aubigny.'--Clarendon looked atit, and said between his teeth. 'He is dead.'--'Thank God!' said I.

"Then he asked me, how I came to paint this picture for that man; Ianswered--oh how happy then it was for me that I could tell the whole truthabout that at least!--I answered that I did not do the picture for ColonelD'Aubigny; that it never was given to him; that he stole it from myportfolio, and that we both did what we could to get it back again fromhim, but could not. And that you even wanted me to tell my mother, butof that I was afraid; and Clarendon said, 'You were wrong there, my dearCecilia.'

"I was so touched when I heard him call me his dear Cecilia again, and inhis own dear voice, that I burst into tears. That was a great relief to me,and I kept saying over and over again, that I was wrong--very wrong indeed!and then he kneeled down beside me, and I so felt his tenderness, hisconfiding love for me--for me, unworthy as I am." The tears streamed fromLady Cecilia's eyes as she spoke--"Quite unworthy!"

"Once!" continued Cecilia--"once! Helen, as my head was lying on hisshoulder, my face hid, I felt so much love, so much remorse, and knowingI had done nothing really bad, I was tempted to whisper all in his ear. Ifelt I should be so much happier for ever--ever--if I could!"

"Oh that you had! my dear Cecilia, I would give anything upon earth foryour sake, that you had."

"Helen, I could not--I could not. It was too late, I should have beenundone if I had breathed but a word. When he even suspected the truth!that look--that voice was so terrible. To see it--hear it again! I couldnot--oh, Helen, it would have been utter ruin--madness. I grant you, mydear Helen, it might have been done at first, before I was married; ohwould to heaven it had! but it is useless thinking of that now. Helen, mywhole earthly happiness is in your hands, this is all I have to say, mayI--may I depend on you?"

Lady Cecilia held her one instant longer, to say that she had askedClarendon to leave it to her to return the letters, "to save you theembarrassment, my dearest Helen; but he answered he must do this himself,and I did not dare to press the matter; but you need not be alarmed, hewill be all gentleness to you, he said, 'it is so different.' Do not beafraid."